


Sing Sing Sing

by myriadofcolors37



Series: All That Jazz [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Lingerie, Ok i lied it has plot and feelies I couldn't escape them, Oral Sex, PWP, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 16:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadofcolors37/pseuds/myriadofcolors37
Summary: Beau asks Yasha out for drinks, but Yasha suggests the liquor back at her place.Set between Chapters 3 and 4 of All That Jazz.





	Sing Sing Sing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiach_dubh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiach_dubh/gifts).



> Have fun with your smut yall!

Backstage of a speakeasy was never, exactly, sexy—filled with moving, busy bodies, the smell of sweat and hairspray, and whatever Mollymauk was smoking in the backroom, it was more a place of chaos that they hid from the patrons’ eyes, making it look smooth and beautiful outside. Like embroidery, really, Beau thought while she whirled around another percussionist, trying to get to Yasha. Except she had never been very good at embroidery, to the despair of her mother. She was too blunt, too forward, choosing to fight the other boys in her town who made fun of her dresses instead of anything her parents wanted from her.

She was very good at fighting, but not very good at talking, which is why when she knocked on the singers’ door, and the woman opened it wearing nothing but a corset and boots, Beau literally gulped. “H-hi.”

“Hi,” Yasha replied, her blue-purple eyes twinkling. “What’s going on? Does Gustav need me for something?”

“No, no, it’s not about—” she sputtered, cleared her throat. “I wanted to ask you if you wanted a drink.”

“A drink.” Her voice was flat.

“From me. Later. After the show.”

Yasha turned to look at the clock beside her. It was eleven o’clock now—she was just in the middle of getting ready for her next act. “The show will end around two,” she said carefully, her voice full of unspoken questions.

“Yeah, I know, I just—” Beau flushed deeply. “You’re really pretty and good at singing and I wanted to know if you wanted to go, um, have a drink with me, or—”

Yasha’s careful expression grew mirthful, then turned into an open grin. “I think you’re pretty too,” she said, “I might be too tired for a drink, but I wouldn’t mind it if you walked me home?” She winked, and clarified, “For protection.”

Everyone knew Yasha needed no such protection—the woman was built strong, and often helped the stronger men and woman with heavy deliveries of alcohol. Beau personally had seen her knock a man out cold when he tried to reach for her ass.

Beau’s face flamed, and she nodded mutely, before squeaking, “I’d like that!”

“Then it’s a date,” she said, and bent over to Beau and whispered, “I have some liquor at home if you really want a drink.”

“A _date_!” Jester squealed, bouncing up behind Yasha, and peeking around her well-muscled arms. “With Beau! OH, this is _so cute_ , you two are _so cute_.”

“Jester, isn’t it your set next?” Yasha asked, and Jester yelped again and began to get ready once more.

“So, after two?” Yasha asked.

“After two,” Beau said. Fjord could clean up without her.

The show was the longest Beau could ever remember seeing. Even as she rushed from stairs to the bar, helping patrons and making sure no one was too rowdy, she checked the time _constantly._ And every time Yasha was on stage, she could barely look at her. But she could also _not_ not look at her—she was fucking beautiful.

And there were drinks in her home. Was that an invitation for drinks at home or was it an invitation for _more_?

Every time she thought about _more_ she stumbled, accidentally stepped on a guest, or broke a plate. It was just after two when Fjord threw her out, rolling his eyes. “Get out of here, git,” he said, laughing.

Beau met Yasha just as she was leaving the backstage, and her smile was soft, beautiful, and she felt fucking weak in her knees. “Shall we go?” Yasha asked, and she nodded mutely, before clearing her throat.

“Yeah! I’ve always wondered where you live, it’s just around here, right?”

“Just a few blocks,” she said, and led Beau up the stairs. She nodded once to Henry, the kid at the counter. Then they were out in the night air, she looped a hand around Beau’s arm, squeezed slightly. “It’s been a while since I’ve walked with someone besides Mollymauk,” Yasha started. Beau’s heart sank—they had some flames going between them, that was for sure. Molly teasing Yasha, Yasha picking Mollymauk up and putting him somewhere tall when he bothered her too much. There were many rumors that they dated each other. “You’re a lot nicer.”

“Yeah? That Mollymauk, he’s quite something.”

“He’s funny,” Yasha said with a chuckle. “I like teasing him back. You’re more serious than he is though,” she said, holding her arm more firmly. “He lets insults run down his back like a duck. If someone insulted you, they’d be knocked flat on their ass.”

Beau shifted a bit, her chest tense. “I mean, I can take a joke,” she started, but Yasha chuckled.

“No, I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s a bit exciting, really—I know exactly where you stand, and that’s… well, it’s very attractive in a gal.”

Beau grinned up to the taller woman. “You’re quite attractive as well,” she said, and then regretted every moment of her life before Yasha threw back her head and laughed, her laughter soft and ringing.

“Well, then, I guess you are asking me out for a date,” she said, turning to grin at her. “Or at least for a different kind of liquor in my room.” Beau flushed deeply, was going to argue, when she leaned over and whispered into her ear, “I very much want to lick-her.”

Beau felt a thrill run through her, like electricity poured through her system, but she managed to giggle. “That was a terrible joke.”

“I know, Molly taught it to me, and I’ve been waiting to use it this whole time. Mostly,” she said, thoughtfully, “with you, but I didn’t know how to ask you out.”

Beau felt another thrill, this time of pure excitement, and Yasha winked at her and smiled crookedly.

Inside her apartment, the smells of honey and ginger lingered around, and Beau sniffed appreciatively at the aromas before glancing all around her apartment. It was tiny and cozy, with a lot of needlework and soft blankets. “Make yourself at home,” Yasha offered before tugging off her boots and hanging up her coat before walking to the kitchen. “Did you want a drink? I really do have some good liquor. Paid for a bottle of whiskey as soon as Fjord brought it up. Something nice to take the edge off some nights.”

Beau slipped off her coat. “I don’t really want a drink, no,” she said, and grinned at Yasha. If it was a little shyer, well, hopefully Yasha wouldn’t tell. “But I would like something else.”

Yasha tossed her luminous and amazing hair over her shoulder, before arching her neck and looking at her. “What did you have in mind?”

“A kiss, for starters,” she asked. “Perhaps, if you’d like, to take it to the bedroom?”

“I would like that.” Yasha grinned back, and there was a moment that would catch in Beau’s heart later, of the two of them smiling and agreeing on what was about to take place—and then the rush of heat as Yasha bent down and kissed her lips, softly, cupping her face in her hands. Beau kissed back, questioningly, tenderly, trying to get the angle just right, but as they pulled apart, breathing a little heavier than before, Yasha giggled first, causing Beau to giggle as well, and laughing mouths fell together, and there it was, the pull and soft mouths and hard teeth and the taste of her breath overwhelming Beau’s thoughts as she pulled her closer, put her arms around her neck and kissed back deeply.

They kissed in the kitchen for what felt like an eternity before Yasha pulled back, her eyes half-lidded with lust, and did she have blue and purple eyes? Gods, she was beautiful—and her lips… Beau had never been much of a romantic, but she could write many poems about her lips, her breath mingling with hers.

“May I carry you to the bedroom?” Yasha asked, her voice rougher than usual. “To ravish you, my fair lady?”

“You may,” Beau replied, and squealed when Yasha picked her up and held her close, kissing her neck, her chin, anything she could find. Beau wrapped her legs around Yasha, grinded slightly, heard Yasha chuckle before being carried backwards. She gasped as her back hit a cold surface—“Sorry, the door,” Yasha said, muffled between Beau’s breasts, and the door opened behind her, causing Yasha to stumble just a bit before gathering Beau up tighter.

“Do you want me to put you down or throw you on the bed?” Yasha asked, kissing up her neck and licking a stripe up to where her neck met her ear.

Beau moaned loudly, half-dazed already by sensations. “Throw me,” she said, and found herself flying and hitting the mattress with a soft bounce. Yasha at the edge of her bed was a glory—her eyes half lidded with desire, her smile full of the confidence of a lioness. She began shucking off her dress, unbuttoning with practiced clever fingers, and Beau did the same, sitting up to peel off her vest, her shirtsleeves, moved forward so she could stand to take off her slacks—but Yasha shook her head. “Don’t get up.” In Yasha’s quiet voice, the order was absolutely perfect in the late night.

Beau grinned, and obeyed, shimmying out of her slacks and throwing them off to the side, before lying down. “Should I take off my brassiere?” She asked.

“Not yet,” Yasha replied, still in her own brassiere and corset. She had more muscle on her legs that made Beau’s mouth water, wanting a taste. “I want to look at you more.”

Beau felt the flush creeping up everywhere, but she tried to not touch her hair worriedly, instead grasping at Yasha’s sheets. “I hope you like what you see,” she offered.

“Very much,” she said, and knelt on the bed, crawling over to her until she was on top of Beau, her face mere inches from her. “You’re beautiful, Beau.” She drew a hand up, brushed her cheek with her thumb. “So very beautiful.”

“You are too,” Beau tried to say, but stumbled over every word. “Gorgeous. Resplendent. Uh—” Yasha laughed and kissed her then, swallowing the words (which Beau was grateful for) and kissing her deeper, deeper still, coming up for breaths and gulping each other and air down in equal measure. Then Yasha was palming her breast, and _oh_ , oh that was nice, do that again. Yasha chuckled, and lapped a tongue over the silk of her brassiere, and _oh_ that was even nicer. Beau couldn’t help her writhing, wanting friction between her legs, wanting _something, anything, please_. Her hands ran up and down Yasha’s sides, finding her own heavy breasts, and caressing them before moving against her nipples with her thumbs, was pleased as fuck when Yasha gasped, moaned, arched into her mouth, plopped down on Beau’s lap and ground down, her heated center nearly burning a hole in Beau’s lap, and gods, if this was heaven, then she could die like this right now.

“You can go harder on them,” Yasha gasped, kissing the corner of her mouth, and Beau was not convinced that this _wasn’t_ heaven.

Beau thumbed her nipples, pinching them, gauging Yasha’s reaction, and then when she moaned, doing it again, a bit harder, and then she broke the kiss entirely and bent her head to capture her nipple through the silk in her mouth, and Yasha’s hands were in her hair and tugging.

“Oh, sorry, is that okay?” Yasha gasped, releasing it.

“Gods yes, do that again. Is _this_ okay?”

“Very much so,” she said. “Do it again. Now.”

Beau went back to her task with the sincerity of a worshipper in a temple, and in some ways she was. If she could find a way to worship her like this every day, she would count herself a lucky woman. But before she could let herself think that far in advance. She slipped the bra just slightly askew, freeing the magnificent breasts that had been her focus all day. She held Yasha’s breast in one hand, the other hand holding the other up for Beau to lip at the nipple, then take it in and suck, causing the other woman to cry out, “ _Yes,”_ before pulling on Beau’s hair again, bringing her closer to her breast.

Beau alternated breasts, sucking small hickeys on and around the woman’s breasts, feeling her grind hard against Beau’s lap before she shook her head. “Enough,” Yasha said, and Beau popped off to look up, worried.

“Too much?”

“No, you were perfect,” Yasha said with a grin. “But I need something else now.”

Beau grinned in answer, and reached down to touch her at her heat, but she grabbed her wrist. “Not yet,” she said, and pushed gently down onto the mattress. Beau could smell her wetness now, the smell of sweat and cunt that nearly took her down in anticipation. “Put your hands above your head?”

She did so without question, and Yasha chuckled before petting her head. “Good. You’re doing wonderfully. I’m going to sit on your face.”

The other woman nodded hard. “Yes, gods, yes,” she pleaded, and Yasha undid her garters, pulling down her tights and taking off the corset, then the bra. Finally she was free, and totally naked, and Beau whimpered. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you’re just—” Her brain couldn’t work, she could think of anything off the top of her head usually, could shit talk like the best of them, but now she was speechless.

Yasha chuckled again, and crawled back onto the bed, angling herself over Beau’s face. “Tap my leg if you need to breathe,” she said, and Beau held onto her legs fast as her cunt came down on her face.

Everything was heat, cunt, the smell of her body at the most intimate of places, and Beau _moaned_ when she tasted her. She licked, eating her like she was the last meal on earth, savoring every gasp and grinding against her nose with delight. She stuck her tongue in, heard her moan deeply, and lapped with the flat of her tongue up and down her slit, licking pointedly around her clitoris, before licking all over it, hearing Yasha gasp and fall down on the bed in front of her. Beau tried to pull herself away, her mouth covered in wetness as she asked, “You okay?”

“I’m good,” Yasha replied breathlessly, now on all fours. “You’re fucking good at this. Please, don’t stop, _gods_ don’t stop.”

Beau grinned, and went back to work, lapping wetness from her pussy like she was dying of thirst. She changed her tactics, listening (though her ears were muffled by Yasha’s incredible thighs) to the sounds Yasha made, and when she scream-gasped, Beau made sure to do _that_ again, circling the clit over and over until she was shaking, and then dragged her tongue from her hole up to the clit with a hard stripe.

She came loudly, screaming and shaking and moaning, and Beau was amazed to find her wetness tasting different than before—not bad, just different. Yasha shuddered above her, and flopped over, moving her leg off of Beau so she could breathe. “Sorry about that,” she said, sounding winded. Beau sat up, looking at her—she was dazed, blinking wearily and gasping, but her smile was relaxed. “Squirter.”

“Is that what that was?” Beau touched her face, brushed the wetness, and licked it from her fingers. “It tastes good. _You_ taste good.”

Yasha chuckled, then sighed. “Give me a moment, then I’ll return the favor.”

“Please,” Beau said. “Eating you out was more than enough.”

“That’s a lie, but sweet. Thank you. Still,” Yasha licked her lips. “I bet you taste just as good.”

Beau chuckled, and scooched up the bed to meet her. Gods, if this went any further than just a night, she would _love_ to cuddle her, and hold her tight in her arms, but… now was not this time. This was just a night, and she would have to take it like that—she didn’t want to scare off Yasha, and especially not right now.

“May I touch you?” Beau asked, and Yasha nodded, her eyes closed, and when Beau slid her hand up and down her side, Yasha nearly purred, leaning into the touches like a cat.

They spent a few lazy minutes, Beau tracing figures along Yasha’s taut, tight stomach and Yasha making small noises of pleasure, deep in her throat, when she leaned up and looked at Beau. “Now then,” she began, reaching for her and tracing the same light touches over her arm. “Where would you like me?”

Beau’s brain blanked as Yasha licked her lips, and she had to shake her head to clear her head. “Uh. Eating me out?”

She laughed, and reached for her, and suddenly they were kissing again, moving against each other with a slower pace than before, but as Yasha palmed Beau’s breast again, unhooked her brassiere with easy hands ( _how did she do that so fast it takes me forever to take mine off_ , she thinks), and now two hands are on her two breasts and it’s so perfect, a moment of true reverence washes over her and she could thank any god in the world for this moment, and then Yasha asked, “Do you like it harder or softer?”

“Uh.” That wasn’t a response, but she could not think beyond what was happening now. “Harder, I think.”

“You think?” Yasha teased, and kissed her lightly on the nose. “Has it been a while?”

“About a year,” Beau said, and flushed with embarrassment. “I mean, I have, you know, _done_ this before, and I’m, you know—”

“It’s okay,” Yasha interjected, smiling, her eyes honest and open. “I’m not teasing you, I’m just wondering how to proceed.”

“Kiss me?” Beau squeaked, and Yasha nodded before kissing her soft, sweet, her tongue slipping between Beau’s lips, their tongues meeting for a brief moment before deepening the kiss.

She was in heaven. She had died, and this was it. Yasha threaded her hands through Beau’s hair and hummed with pleasure, before reaching back down and touching one of her breasts. “Let’s just see how you’re feeling, okay?”

“Feeling good!” Beau squeaked again, and rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. “Doing… yes, please, that. Yes. Thank you.”

Yasha laughed, and Beau wanted to die before Yasha whispered back, “You’re welcome,” into her mouth, and they were kissing again. Yasha’s hand was kneading her breast, gently, her palm holding the entire tit in her hand, and gods, her white hand against her brown skin was beautiful, truly awe-inspiring, and she was squeezing and kneading and her nipple slipped between the crux of two of her fingers and she pinched it, just gently, causing Beau to buck and keen, “Yes please, yes yes yes!”

“That was a good mark,” Yasha commented conversationally, and then her other hand was back on her other breast, and _oh_ that was twice as good, two times as wonderful, and Yasha was giggling but not in a bad way, and wow—

“Eat me?” Beau asked, and this time she didn’t sound so much like a chipmunk, and Yasha grinned and pushed her gently against the bed, Beau’s hands busy pulling off her underwear but then Yasha helped, tossed them over her shoulder, spread her legs and hummed when she saw her pussy. Before Beau could feel worried, she shot her a grin, licked her lips, and pulled Beau’s hand up to her hair. “You can tug on it,” she said, and tossed most of it over her shoulder before bending and licking one long stripe to her clit, and Beau arched hard against the bed, gasping, “Oh shit, oh shit.”

Yasha hummed against her as she settled on a rhythm of licking long stripes, and doing _something_ to her clit that felt like it was too warm, too encompassing, and Beau was talking more than she realized, “Oh my _gods yes_ do that _yes please I’m begging you_ you’re so good at this _yesssssss,”_ and then she gasped, “Use your fingers, please, gods, I need it.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Yasha said, and her mouth was coated in wetness, and something about it _tugged_ at Beau’s heart, and she couldn’t think about that, she could only think about how good she was, and how Yasha took two of her fingers, licked them up and down, and slid them both home, and Beau’s head fell back to the bed, and she was wailing, “Oh yeah, fuck me, _please_ , I need it.”

Yasha went slow at first, her tongue still focused on her clit, but she was breathing hard and her fingers arched into her, wiggled around, hit _something_ that made Beau whine hard, and hit it again, again, and she was pushing towards her orgasm, and she cried out, “ _Faster_ , oh my love, _harder_ ,” and Yasha did.  

Everything was focused now on that motion, the hard and fast and movement and friction and Yasha’s thumb on her clit and she could barely breathe and suddenly everything burst and she was singing.

When she came back down to Earth, Yasha pulled out of her slowly, her muscles fluttering around her weakly, still spasming, and Beau’s muscles were so relaxed she would turn into soup at any moment, and they’d have to bottle her up quick and bring her to events to say “This Is The Amazing Girl Who Turned Into Soup from Really Great Sex!”

Beau barely noticed when Yasha climbed into the bed next to her, brushed the hair off her sweaty face and no, she wouldn’t doubt herself right now, because Yasha was smiling warmly and holding her and kissing her and _oh_ she could taste herself on her lips and Beau really would melt this time.

“May I hold you?” Beau blurted out, and Yasha paused, considered for one heartbreaking moment, and nodded, and their legs wrapped together, fitting together like they were meant to.  


End file.
